


crush.

by bothsidesnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Light Angst, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-26 19:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30110886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothsidesnow/pseuds/bothsidesnow
Summary: Watching Jon light a cigarette in bed, Sansa worries that this didn't mean as much for him as it did her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All! :) I love feedback, so do hit me up if you read this! It's been literal years since I wrote for this pairing, but here we go.

Sansa hadn’t honestly expected this to happen again – it was becoming a pattern.

The first time, she had come to Robb’s apartment after finally, _finally_ breaking things off with Joffrey, not feeling quite safe enough to go back home when she definitely wouldn’t put it past Joffrey to be waiting at her place at some point. Robb hadn’t been home, but Jon had been, and even just seeing a familiar safe face had been a relief, even if it wasn’t the older brotherly comfort she had been hoping for.

Jon had fixed her a cup of tea, and holding it had helped stop her hands shaking so much, and then they’d talked. For hours in the end.

It was an intoxicating feeling of liberation, to finally be free from Joffrey, and maybe it had gone to Sansa’s head. She’d never exactly been an oversharer, but for some reason it felt like she just couldn’t stop telling Jon all the shitty things Joffrey had done to her. It had been so long since anybody had been there to just listen without constantly telling her to break up with him, which had always made her feel guilty because she just _couldn’t_.

At some point she’d switched to wine and the slight buzz had mixed dangerously with the lightness she felt, and she gave in to the intrusive impulse to – kiss Jon.

And then they were kissing on the sofa and Jon was being so gentle but it was all so incredibly intense.

She’d never really looked at him properly before, so she felt how beautiful his hair was in her fingers before she noticed how the curls looked with the light catching them. His eyes were half-closed in the moment, pupils dilated and the thinner ring of grey iris the colour of sunlit smoke, all warm desire.

She saw him then, and she thought he was really quite pretty in a raw, sensitive way. She did usually like pretty men.

But he wasn’t anything like Joffrey. No, Jon had just sat and listened to her for hours, had held her hand when it had been hard to talk, and told her to forgive herself when she got angry. This was the kind of man she _should_ fall in love with.

Maybe she could, Sansa told herself when they fumbled their way to Jon’s room.

And then Jon had gone down on her for quite possibly an hour, and she had re-evaluated – she could definitely fall in love with a man like Jon. They had fucked afterwards, surprisingly sweetly, but just the side of rough that knocked the breath out of Sansa. Joffrey had never made her feel this wrung out and sated.

Afterwards, curled into each other and slightly damp with sweat, Jon had kissed her hair, and then reached back to his nightstand with a, “do you mind?”, gesturing to the cigarette that now dangled loosely between two of his fingers.

“Not at all.”

But while she didn’t actually mind him smoking, something about the act made her feel like for Jon, maybe this hadn’t been such an unusual, liberating experience. Cigarettes after sex was the kind of thing that confident men did when they were used to having satisfied women in their beds.

All of a sudden, Sansa felt slightly embarrassed – there was nothing at all wrong if this was a regular occurrence for Jon, but Sansa was keenly aware of her own lack of experience. Sex with Joffrey had always consisted of her best efforts to get him off quickly, which didn’t exactly prepare her for the kind of sex Jon and her had just had.

Jon did look very content, leaning back against the headboard with his eyes closed and breathing smoke out of his open mouth, but maybe that was just the cigarette talking.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted, and then she had scrambled out of the bed and started grabbing all her clothes from the floor.

She hadn’t expected Jon to jolt out of his serene state so quickly, or to seem so panicked, but she attributed it to surprise at the disruption of the post-sex glow rather than anything emotional.

“Is everything okay, Sansa?” His voice was concerned, and he was blinking like he was trying to clear his head. The cigarette ember was burning steadily, forgotten in his hand while he tried to get her to respond.

“It’s fine, Jon. This was – great actually, for me anyway. I just feel bad, I barged in on your afternoon and made you listen to me, and now this. I – yeah.” And before he really had a chance to respond, she had left his bedroom and the front door of the flat was slamming shut.

Sansa hadn’t had much contact with her brother’s best friend in the next few months, but every time she had it’d been awkward.

Jon always looked like he wanted to say something to her, and the one time he had managed to get her alone she had thought it would be easier and less embarrassing for them both if she told him it was all fine and they could just forget about it. After that, he had stopped trying to find excuses to talk, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly relieved.

A month after they’d had sex, Sansa met Harry and they’d started dating, so she’d put it out her mind.

The dates with Harry were nice. He was romantic, and he had good taste in food, and he always brought her flowers when he took her out.

Maybe the flowers made her sneeze, but it was the thought that counted, and the thought was undeniably sweet.

The sex was definitely enjoyable, also. Not earth-shattering, but Sansa thought possibly she’d just been spoilt by lunatics who got off on going down on a girl for ages. Perhaps most importantly, after they both finished, Harry liked to lay back and hold her and they would talk about nothing and laugh.

Harry was a different kind of freeing than Jon.

Until, of course, Sansa had found out that she was far from the only person who thought she was dating Harry. Maybe, Sansa mused, people like Harry were good at romance because they got a lot of practice.

It hadn’t exactly left her with a lot of confidence. Logically, she knew it wasn’t her fault, but the cocktail of Joffrey and Harry would be enough to make anyone doubt.

And so, she found herself back in Jon’s bed.

It wasn’t because she was feeling bad, she had genuinely wanted to come and talk to him. But somehow, they had ended up just like last time.

This time, when they were tangled in the blankets together and catching their breath, Jon _didn’t_ reach back to his nightstand for a cigarette.

“I thought normally after… you know, you liked to smoke?” Sansa asked, propping herself up on her arm.

Jon flushed and cleared his throat lightly. “Sometimes, yeah, but after last time with you I thought you didn’t like it. I, er, didn’t want you to leave again now.”

Jon definitely looked sheepish, but all Sansa could think about was that he didn’t want her to leave.

“It wasn’t that, I just got embarrassed.” Jon blushed deeper, and Sansa realised what she had said.

“No! No, not about you. Not at all, Jon. You’re wonderful, you’ve been so kind to me. And you’re also gorgeous and the sex was, like, so great you have no idea…” she trailed off, and then took a breath in, “-you’re just. I got embarrassed because you looked so relaxed, and cool, and I thought maybe it wasn’t as important to you as it was to me.”

“Not important? Look, I really like you Sansa. I don’t know where this is going, but I like spending time with you.”

Sansa let out her breath.

“Oh, that’s good, I really like you too, Jon.”

Jon gave a little, incredulous laugh, and reached back to his nightstand. He returned with a cigarette between his fingers.

“I feel like I want one just to take in this whole conversation. Do you mind?” He gestured to the cigarette again, and Sansa shook her head.

This time, he lit it and they lay back together, sharing the cigarette between them and staring at the smoke hanging in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb returned home and immediately scrunched his nose up at the smell of cigarette smoke. He knew it was part of Jon’s post-sex thing, or whatever, but Robb wished he would crack a window sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little addition!

Robb returned home and immediately scrunched his nose up at the smell of cigarette smoke. He knew it was part of Jon’s post-sex _thing_ , or whatever, but Robb wished he would crack a window sometimes.

The smoke was slightly more pungent than usual, so whoever was in there with Jon must be good company. It was normally one cigarette, and then Jon would come out and either see the person out or make them food, depending on how much time they wanted to spend together. Robb could hear Jon’s laugh through the door, and faint shouts of a lively debate going on.

Half an hour later, Robb was sat on the sofa, trying to ignore the smell of smoke getting even stronger. Was Jon chain smoking a whole pack in there?

Surely this was not attractive to women.

Robb was really not a fan of the smell of cigarettes - it was becoming overwhelming, and all he wanted to do was watch a movie in his nice, clean, _fresh_ apartment, and then go to bed after a long day.

On the other hand, it really wouldn’t be cool of him to barge in on Jon, who was clearly having a great time, and ask him to stop. But then he heard the click of a lighter flint, and honestly, he couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through another cig being smoked.

He knocked on Jon’s door and waited, not entirely sure how dressed Jon or Jon’s girl would be.

“Oh shit, Robb. I forgot to open the window. He’s probably going to be a bit annoyed,” he heard Jon say to whoever he was with.

The responding voice was very, very familiar to him.

“Robb? Fuck, I completely forgot he’d be back. Fuck, where’s my shirt? You don’t think he’ll be weirded out by this do you?” Jon’s response must have been non-verbal, because the next thing he heard was Jon telling him to come in.

The smell of smoke was way stronger when you opened the door.

Inside, Jon was standing by the, now open, window trying to waft the air out with a newspaper. Sansa was sitting cross-legged on the bed, fully dressed but rather conspicuously in one of Jon’s shirts.

The ash tray was practically full on Jon’s bedside table.

Now, Robb wasn’t one of those dickish brothers who wanted to protect their sisters’ virtue or anything, and really, Jon was a good guy. So ultimately, Robb didn’t care that much about what had clearly transpired between Sansa and Jon.

He was, however, shocked at the slight rasp in Sansa’s voice.

“Sansa Stark! Have you been smoking?”

The responding laugh was appropriately throaty, “don’t worry Robb, it’s not going to become a thing.”

Robb was starting to get a little light-headed from being in the room, even with the window open, and so he thanked Jon for trying to clear the air and then left. It was a very awkward realisation that he had just interrupted his little sister’s pillow talk.

They emerged out the room in the next ten minutes or so, migrating to the kitchen and clattering out pans for making dinner. When Robb went in to collect his own leftovers, he had to wrinkle his nose.

“God, you two smell like an ash tray.”

They both at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

Much to Robb’s chagrin, it did, in fact, become a _thing_. Sansa and Jon were definitely happy dating, but Robb could do without occasionally walking into Jon’s room thinking he’d be alone, only to see them both in bed laughing and sharing a cigarette.


End file.
